I heard my mom talking to my cat about an hour ago, so I looked across the hall and there sat my cat, Harry, in the middle of her floor looking accosted in that way that only a cat can manage. He was sitting on his back legs, one front paw on the floor and the other paw held back toward him and slightly off the floor as he stared at something just out of my sight.
I asked my mom what was up and she told me that Harry had gone in and very gently tapped her dog, the Wookie, on the head with his paw to wake him up and the Wookie snapped (rather viscously) at Harry. It seems that some people just don't like being woken up before 7 a.m. on a Sunday morning.
After a few moments of looking highly affronted, Harry strode with as much dignity as he could muster into his little Siamese body over and sat at her door with his back to the traitor dog.
Makes me want to start writing a book about them two's interactions.
I asked my mom what was up and she told me that Harry had gone in and very gently tapped her dog, the Wookie, on the head with his paw to wake him up and the Wookie snapped (rather viscously) at Harry. It seems that some people just don't like being woken up before 7 a.m. on a Sunday morning.
After a few moments of looking highly affronted, Harry strode with as much dignity as he could muster into his little Siamese body over and sat at her door with his back to the traitor dog.
Makes me want to start writing a book about them two's interactions.
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